Together We Stand
by Maegfen
Summary: "It does not matter that the rules have changed, they are together and that is all that is important." - When Red John starts his new game, will Lisbon and Jane be able to keep up against the odds?- Multi-chapter follow-up to my 5x22 tag - Unstoppable
1. Prologue

**Summary: **"It does not matter that the rules have changed, they are together and that is all that is important."

**Disclaimer: **The Mentalist doesn't belong to me - I'm just playing until they return in September.

**Rating: **T although could rise later in the story

**Spoilers: **Everything up to 5x22 – Red John's Rules. This is a multi-chapter follow up to my 5x22 tag – Unstoppable, although you don't have to read that for this to make sense.

**Author's notes: **So, apparently my brain wanted me to write a 'Season 6' based fic, as well as carry on my Season 5 AU. My brain severely overestimates what I'm capable of sometimes I think! Still, here's the prologue to my new multi-chapter. Like most of my stories, I have a vague idea of where this is going, but I'm pretty much along for the ride! As with Blood on the Scales, I can't guarantee when I'll be able to update, but I'm aiming for at least once a week. My school year finishes in 6 weeks, so I'll have a lot more time to dedicate to my stories when I have a free summer :)

As always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think; I'm still learning as I go with this, and I'm always eager to learn what does/ doesn't work for people!

Enjoy…

* * *

Red John's MO changes with his next kill. Yes, the smiley face is still there, sinister and demonic as it has always been, but the message carved into the young woman's torso is new. Lisbon shivers slightly as she stands in the doorway of the small, dank motel room to take in the scene, but she doesn't know whether it's down to the cool winter's air following them inside or the warm touch of Jane's hand on the small of her back.

He's been silent since they left CBI, since she approached him in the bullpen earlier to let him know that what they have been dreading has finally started; Red John has taken another life. She hadn't pushed him to talk, his slumped body language practically shouting at her to leave him be as they made their way to the new crime scene in the SUV. The miserable weather outside seems to perpetuate the chilly atmosphere in the room, but she can't help but find the soft pattering of the rain on the concrete outside therapeutic amongst all the chaos that is about to ensue.

Jane has been ever present in her life since Red John changed the rules two months ago; he'd told her in hushed whispers that night, as they'd held hands while watching the sun set, that he would go to the ends of the earth to stop Red John, before apologising for putting her and everyone else's life in danger. They'd been practically inseparable since then: late nights, early mornings, shared dinners, restless nights on couches. They haven't shared more than the brief kisses in the attic all those weeks ago, but she finds that just Jane's presence is enough to satisfy what needs she has for the moment. It does not matter that the rules have changed, they are together and that is all that is important. The rumours surrounding them, however, have picked up with newfound momentum, but she no longer cares what others think; all that matters to her now is stopping Red John and protecting Jane and the others from the evil that seems to lurk around every corner.

The hardest part has been shutting out the team. Lisbon knows how they feel; this is precisely what they all went through when Jane disappeared to Vegas over a year ago. But, the two of them have decided to keep the list and the contents of the disk to themselves. She loves the guys, she really does, trusts them with her life even, but the more people they tell the more chance of something going wrong. Hence all the secrecy, despite the pain it causes her.

It has been particularly hard for her, she muses. Jane has done this before, has distanced himself from their 'family' more than once but he and the team are all the people she really has in this world and separating herself in regards to something this important is tearing her up inside. How can she protect them if she can't warn them of the danger that lurks outside? They still work together on cases, but there is a tension there that wasn't present before, a strange atmosphere filling the bullpen whenever the others realise that the two of them have been together again. She finds it hard to see the resigned faces of her team, but Jane tells her it is for the best. Lisbon finds it hard to agree with him, but she trusts him, so she does not complain.

Lisbon is drawn from her thoughts as she fully enters the room and she instinctively stutters to a halt as she spots Brett Partridge stood by the bed, back to the two of them, body bent over their latest victim. Lisbon isn't sure how to react and she can feel her muscles tensing. She's spent time with Bertram in the previous months but they've suspected him before of being connected to Red John so she does not struggle to put across a calm and composed façade when talking to him. She hasn't seen Kirkland and Haffner for weeks and the other suspects are supposedly out of town. But Partridge is different; an unknown quantity, someone who hadn't even really been on her radar until Lorelei's voice had read his name through the laptop in the silence of the attic.

Jane must sense her hesitance because she feels him then, his breath soft in her ear and it must look to anyone outside of the two of them that he is kissing her neck, the position intimate. Instead, she hears nothing but his whispered words, calm and soothing, working quickly to dispel the panic that suddenly flows through her.

"Ignore him, he mustn't suspect anything. Just focus on me Lisbon; I'll do the hard part."

She trusts him, because she has no alternative in this, and she watches as Partridge glances up at them suddenly, and she almost scowls as he runs his eyes over their close proximity. He seems to lose interest quickly though, and he gestures towards the victim on the bed before them. At the moment she is a Jane Doe, but Lisbon is sure that she has been carefully selected by Red John; she is the first kill of a new 'era' after all.

"I'm not sure whether this is Red John or not," Partridge comments, and Lisbon studies his face for any sense of deception, or even a flash of pride in the scene before them. She sees nothing, so drags her eyes to Jane. To anyone else watching, Jane's demeanour is one of his usual cool, calm arrogance. But she has spent so much time with him recently that he is becoming more and more transparent to her by the day. The slight clenching of his fist betrays his anger, the hand through his hair reveals his frustration and the seemingly nonchalant wave of his arm over the body shows his fear; she thinks she is the only one who can see the slight trembling of his hand.

"It could be," Jane mutters, wandering to the other side of the bed so that the piece of furniture separates them. Lisbon is stood at the end, and she briefly thinks that the three of them could be in a strange Mexican stand-off. She shakes the thought aside and continues her silent study, hoping that Cho or Rigsby will turn up soon with some news on surveillance from the building's manager. Panic starts to fill her body and she can't shake the feeling that Red John might be right there, right in front of her in the form of Brett Partridge and she can't do anything about it. She takes a deep breath and looks at Jane for support. He seems to recognise her need and he turns up the corner of his mouth in a half smile, the small movement of his lips all the comfort that she needs.

"Mmm I guess," Partridge continues, his voice quiet and determined. Lisbon wonders if it is the voice of a killer. "All the signs are here, the face seems authentic and the patterns of the wounds are consistent with a Red John victim. This, however," he says, indicating the naked torso covered in blood and the new aspect of Red John's crime evident for all to see, "is different."

Lisbon had been informed over the phone of the change in MO, but seeing it there in front of her sends another shiver down her spine. The number is intricate, fluid, and horrific. She can practically see Red John's face laughing (_but which one, who is he?_) as he carved it into this poor woman's body, knife glistening with blood as he started his game. She looks up at Jane and sees the same determined look in his eye that he gets every time Red John appears to cause havoc with his life.

7

7 suspects, 7 names, and now, apparently, 7 potential victims. The significance of the number isn't lost on her, and, she imagines, on Jane. Red John is purposefully taunting the man in front of her, and she again glances at Partridge to see any flicker of recognition. Lisbon figures it is no use though; Red John has been under their noses for years and never revealed himself and he is unlikely to do so now, especially as he seems to be just warming up.

Jane's eyes flick to hers and back again, as if he is now the one looking for reassurance in the cold of the dingy motel room. She sees the muscles tense in his shoulders, the movement small and unnoticeable to many, but to her it's a giant warning sign that the man before her is almost starting to panic. She moves quietly towards him, ignoring Partridge's comments as he walks himself through the scene. She moves to stand closer to the head of the bed, feigning an interest in something on the pillow, but her motive is to stand in front of Jane, to reassure him that she is there, safe and unharmed. Sure enough, as she stands, gazing at nothing but the frilly design of the cushion, she feels his hand, warm and comforting on the small of her back under her jacket. She doesn't move as Jane grips her shirt slightly, nor does she flinch as he rubs his thumb across her spine. The gesture is hidden from everyone else in the room, but it is enough for the two of them, enough for them both to know that the two of them are ok, at least for the time being. Lisbon carries on as if nothing is unusual, and she can feel Jane physically relax behind her. She's relieved, because she has a feeling that if she lets him become lost inside himself she won't be able to find him again.

Her attention is drawn to the body in front of them once more, and Lisbon knows that Jane's gaze is focused on the same thing.

The number is a sign, a warning for her and for Jane. There is a time limit now _(Until you catch me… or I catch you)_, the cards have been dealt and she and Jane must deal with the consequences.

It is a countdown, and Lisbon does not want to imagine what will happen when they get to zero.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: **Here we are then everyone, the second chapter of my Season 6 AU type thing :) I've been working hard to plan out a bit more of this, hence the few days between postings. I'm afraid that it's probably going to turn into a bit of a monster, judging by all the plot threads and ideas I've noted down, but hopefully I'll be able to maintain everyone's interest. Also, forgive the slightly awkward change in perspective later on in this chapter; I just find it easier to write!

Feedback is always welcome; don't hesitate to let me know what you think! Enjoy…

* * *

_"You're a wicked man Jane," the man growls, poking a finger in the other man's chest. The noise from the rides is deafening, and Patrick, 15 and bored from the day's work is watching his father and Sean Barlow argue once again. This time it's about his father fleecing some rich couple from Alabama of their hard earned cash so that they could speak to their long lost son. The idiots fell for his carefully chosen words and finely spun tale hook, line and sinker. It's no wonder his father's show draws the big crowds wherever the fair stops._

"_Ain't nothing wicked about me Barlow. You know the rules, you're either in the circuit or you're a mark. And this place is full of easy pickings." Alex Jane's voice is scathing and Patrick almost rolls his eyes at his father's hostility. He watches as Barlow huffs and notes the older man's clenched fist. It wouldn't be the first time that the two men had exchanged punches; he remembers helping his father stitch the wound above his eye only a month previous. Alex Jane had been livid and Patrick had borne the brunt of his fury, listening to his father rant for what seemed liked hours while he paced the metal trailer they call home._

_Patrick watches the two men before him carefully. He's always been good at watching, listening, remembering. He's never found it a particularly useful skill up till now, but sometimes it helps him pass the time between shows or when they're travelling to the next stop on the trail. His father thinks that his 'talent' for observation is good enough to contribute to his own show, but Patrick has always preferred the trickery of magic to the falseness of the physic world._

"_You shouldn't be playing them for fools Jane, lying to them about their loved ones like that; ain't natural, ain't fair."_

"_Life ain't fair Barlow," his father replies, "sooner you realise that the better. Now beat it before my next show; my boy's up as support and you're distracting him from preparing for it." Barlow glares at his father, the blue eyes flashing with anger before he storms off to this own tent further back, muttering as he goes._

_Patrick glances at his watch and realises that his father is right; he only has 20 minutes to get ready for his act. He's still learning, but his sleight of hand is becoming more and more popular now and he's pretty sure with another couple of years practice he'll be the best damn illusionist in the Mid-West, despite his father's intentions to the contrary._

_He hears a soft cough behind him as he traipses his way towards the metal trailer that is his home, and he spots Angela as she peers around the side of the ghost train, her blond hair fluttering slightly in the cool autumn air. He smiles at her, the gesture broad and heartfelt. The ghost train is his favourite ride. They sneak in there sometimes at night, when he isn't on stage, to give some of the customers an extra spook, or to use the darkness to share quick kisses and touches away from prying eyes._

"_Hey," he mutters warmly, slowing as she moves towards him, reaching for her hand as she approaches, "how's business going today?"_

_She takes his hand in hers, but her fingers are cold and when she speaks her reply is too quiet, and Patrick has to turn to hear her._

"_What was that Ange?"_

"_Why didn't you save me?"_

_He is confused, because she's never been in any danger when he's been around and he's struggling to understand what she means._

"_Save you from what?"_

"_Save me from him… you could have saved me Patrick, but you didn't…" she says, and points towards the Ferris wheel. A man is stood there, tall, covered in shadow and Patrick feels a cold shiver run through his body._

_He turns to look at Angela to tell her that he'd save her from anything because he's her knight in shining armour after all, but he nearly screams at the vision in front of him. Angela is suddenly covered in blood and her eyes are vacant, staring into nothingness. She falls, as if all the life has gone out of her and Patrick catches her, kneeling on the cold grass, Angela nestled in his arms. He can see deep wounds on her body, her arms, her chest, but he cannot say how they got there._

_He shouts then, begging for help, but no one answers. The noise of the fair has stopped and there is nothing but the sound of his sobs as he tries to shake her awake. The blood is spreading, covering him and Patrick feels bile rise in his throat. There are marks everywhere and he can't stop the bleeding. He looks up, desperate for someone to help him, to save her. He cannot lose her; she is the only thing that keeps him sane in this crazy world they both inhabit. The tears rolls down his cheeks and the deep sobs hurt his chest. He knows it is too late now, he was too late; he couldn't save her. It wasn't fair, he never had a chance. How can he fight something that doesn't even show itself?_

_He spots movement out of the corner of his eye and spots the dark figure moving slowly towards the trailer he shares with his father. He has something in his hand, but Patrick cannot see what it is. The figure faces the door, and raises his arm and Patrick spots a flash of red, the same shade as the blood that now covers him. The mystery figure steps away and turns towards him, and Patrick can hear a distant laugh, eerie, almost ethereal and he watches as the man disappears behind the Ferris wheel once more. He has left a message though, the crude smiley face obscene and horrific against the metal of his home._

_Patrick chances another look at Angela then, even though she is gone, has left him behind to face this world without her. His vision is blurry from the tears but he sees immediately that the person he is holding has changed. The hair is no longer blond, but a deep brown, the locks tied up in a ponytail. The features of this person are unfamiliar but he senses that she is important, is someone he should know and love and cherish just as much as Angela. He doesn't know her name, but, as a gust of wind carries faint laughter through the autumn air, he mourns her just the same; she is dead, Angela is dead and Patrick is alone…_

* * *

Jane woke in a cold sweat, the remnants of the nightmare ringing through his ears. Taking some deep calming breaths, he lifted a hand to his face to rub his eyes and paused as he felt moisture there; he was surprised to find his tears were as real here as they had been in his dream. He wiped his eyes and face with his pyjama top, the cool feel of the fabric offering some comfort. He swept his slightly damp hair back with a trembling hand and took in his surroundings. The living room where he slept was as familiar now as his motel room, maybe even more so. He had stayed here fairly often since Red John announced his new rules to the game. Pictures of Lisbon's family smiled at him in the dim twilight and Jane sat up carefully on the couch, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the near darkness. A faint light trickled in through the gaps in the blinds that covered the large windows, the street lights outside doing their job of illuminating the quiet hours of darkness.

It had started innocently enough really, his spending frequent nights here. He'd ring ahead to say he was coming round to check on her, she'd just randomly turn up at his motel room to do the same. They fell easily into a pattern of checking-up on one another every other day, both of them bound together by the knowledge they shared: Red John was back and his rules had changed. The nervous energy that had begun to surround them was an indicator to the both of them that they both feared the worst. A final confrontation was coming, and neither of them knew from where. Eventually it became a custom for him to spend a few nights a week at hers, his paranoia serving to ensure that both of them got some rest at some point each week.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle and was annoyed to discover it wasn't much past midnight, only a few hours since he had crashed out here to sleep. He and Lisbon had driven back to her place a couple of hours hours ago, the two of them still slightly shaken from the discovery of Red John's latest crime scene. He wasn't sure what had set off the wave of panic in the motel room earlier, but he thought it probably had something to do with the fact that when he looked past the blood and the horrific injuries, the female victim had borne a strong resemblance to the woman he was so desperate to protect. Lisbon had probably picked up on it subconsciously too, although he knew her unease was mainly down to the fact that Partridge had been within touching distance and so far no one had been eliminated from their list of seven suspects.

He was struck by a sudden wave of panic, the visions from his nightmare rearing their ugly head once more. He remembered the feel of Angela's warm blood on his skin, remembered how she had changed into Lisbon in the blink of an eye. It was a dream that had plagued him since Red John delivered his chilling message, but never before had it been so vivid, leaving him feeling scared and vulnerable all at once. Jane had a niggling feeling that his subconscious was trying to tell him something, trying to get him to link together two pieces of a puzzle, but his brain was always so focused on the blood and death and destruction that he never managed to make the connection. It was frustrating to say the least, but he knew he'd get there eventually; he normally did.

He swept his hair back again, trying to come to a decision. He was rarely indecisive like this, but when it came to Lisbon and his feelings for her he sometimes had no idea how to act.

Jane figured he had two choices: wake Lisbon up to check she was ok, or just try and fall back to sleep and ignore the panic in his chest. He knew deep down that he was unlikely to get any rest without knowing she slept safely upstairs so he decided that option 3 was best; sneak a peek in her room, make sure she was ok and then come back downstairs. Easy.

Jane stood on slightly unsteady legs, throwing the blanket off onto the floor in the process. He stretched slightly, and curled his bare toes in the thick carpet under his feet.

He suddenly heard soft footsteps at the top of the stairs, and looked up to spot Lisbon making her way down to see him. He'd obviously made enough noise to wake her and he cursed himself for disturbing her much needed rest. He watched as she flicked on the light to the living room as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and he took in her appearance. She was dressed in her usual nightclothes: an old CBI t-shirt and a pair of shorts that fell to just above her knees. He loved the look on her, it made her seem younger, more innocent. It also gave him the opportunity to gaze at her legs, but he'd never let her know that; at least, not in the present climate anyway. The sight of her safe and well was a welcome relief to his pounding heart and he pushed away images of her bloody and broken in his arms.

"You ok?" she said, watching him carefully through tired eyes, her voice thick with sleep. She was sporting the patented 'bed head' look, her hair all over the place, and Jane thought she kind of looked adorable. He smiled sheepishly at her, hoping to belay any worry she might have over him. If she noticed the redness of his eyes left from his hurried swiping of them as he'd awoken, she didn't say. He was thankful; that was one awkward conversation carefully avoided at least.

"Yeah, just a dream. Sorry if I woke you." His apology was sincere; they both knew she didn't get enough sleep, especially in the last couple of months. She seemed to catch his gaze shifting to her hair once more, and Jane watched as she blushed and tried to flatten it. He chuckled and smirked at her. Hair partially under control, she looked back at him.

"It's fine, no need to apologise. I heard you shout so I thought I'd come and check up on you." She leant against the doorframe, watching him closely, arms folded across her chest.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her. Realising that he was still standing, he moved to sit back on the couch. He grabbed the blanket as he sat back, sighing contentedly as his back hit the soft cushions.

She moved quietly then, making her way across the room to sit next to him. He watched as she made herself comfortable, tucking her legs underneath her as she sat. Neither of them said anything, both of them alone in their own thoughts for a moment.

"Want to talk about it?" Lisbon eventually said, looking up at him, concern still filling her eyes. That was his Lisbon through and through; always thinking of others before herself.

"Hmm?"

"Your dream; do you want to talk about it?"

Jane shook his head. Lisbon had enough to worry about in regards to him without adding the pressure of knowing how violently his subconscious treated her on regular occasions.

"It's fine. It just shook me up that's all. I'm afraid that's what Red John does to you when he gets in here." He pointed to his temple, a lazy smile on his face. Lisbon didn't say anything, just nodded and continued to gaze at him. "I'm alright now; I should be able to drop right off again." He tried to sound confident, even though his brain kept flashing images from his nightmare behind his eyes.

"You want a drink or anything? I'm going to get myself some water before I head back up."

He shook his head again, and Jane watched as Lisbon stood up slowly. She made to move past him, but on impulse he grabbed her wrist, immediately getting her attention. She turned towards him, a confused look on her face. He lightly brushed her pulse point with his thumb, noting the erratic beat against his skin, before he remembered himself and released her arm, looking up at her.

"Thanks Lisbon," he said quietly, "for everything."

She smiled and, after pausing as if making an important decision, leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. He smiled at the contact, remembering the way those same lips had felt under his own all those weeks ago.

"It's no problem Jane, you know that. It's you and me, together. Remember that."

He returned her smile and watched as she headed into the kitchen. He turned onto his back and closed his eyes, knitting his hands together as they rested on his stomach. He listened to her turn the tap on and fill a glass with water, then tracked her movements as she once again headed towards the stairs. He heard her flick the light switch off and smiled at her whispered "Night Jane."

"Night Lisbon," he replied just as quietly as he heard her make her way back to her room.

Once again, the house was silent and he slowly felt himself drift off, happy in the knowledge that the woman he cared for was safe once more.

* * *

His new set of files were scattered over her dining table, the quiet of her house the only place where he now felt safe enough to work through the latest set of Red John clues. He knew his attic had been compromised before, and he briefly contemplated whether it was someone off the list who had broken in. His money was on Kirkland, because, to be honest, the agent from Homeland Security just gave off that kind of 'I'll do whatever's necessary to achieve my goal' vibe.

The early morning light was streaming lazily through the blinds in the windows and Jane could hear a couple of cars drive by on the quiet road. He relished the calm of Lisbon's house. Even in his attic hideaway he'd never felt _completely _at peace; the fact that the CBI HQ was situated in the middle of a big commercial district meant that the place was very rarely silent. He'd just learnt to block out the noise when he was thinking.

He was sat in quiet contemplation, sipping his cup of tea and dividing his attention between a file detailing Reede Smith's work history and one filled with photos from the latest crime scene, when Lisbon joined him downstairs. Despite his best efforts, he'd only managed to get another hour or so of sleep, the vision of Lisbon bleeding in his lap too disturbing to allow any decent rest. He'd ventured over to the table, still clad in his pyjamas, in a bid to try and make a start on eliminating any of their 7 suspects from the list, as well as figure out who the girl was from the motel. Unlike Eileen, there wasn't a flash of recognition when he saw the body, so Jane presumed that it wasn't someone he knew. Still, Red John seemed to be able to get in his head, so he made a note to check over any old acquaintances that may have been at risk. He hadn't come up with anything yet, and he briefly wondered whether the county fair was still in town; Pete or Sam might have some information about anyone who'd gone missing recently. He made a mental note to try and get in touch with either of them, then turned his attention to the woman heading towards him.

Jane watched as Lisbon pottered past him into the kitchen, obviously determined to grab a cup of coffee before she joined him.

She'd changed out of her nightwear into an old pair of SFPD running shorts and t-shirt. It was part of her morning routine: coffee, run, shower, more coffee, work. When he'd first discovered her early morning need for exercise the first night he'd stayed over he'd been reluctant to let her go. When she'd informed him that she'd been doing it for 8 years and nothing had ever happened to her and that if he was so concerned he should join her, he quickly dropped the subject. It didn't stop him from following her in his car the first couple of mornings though, just in case. When she'd called him out on it (his car was hardly difficult to miss after all) he'd merely shrugged and claimed that he was just checking up on her. She hadn't said anything in reply, merely rolled her eyes, and neither of them had mentioned it again.

She drew up behind him, placing her coffee next to his tea and leaning over his shoulder, placing a hand on the back of his chair to support herself. They didn't allow themselves much, but the feel of her leaning slightly against his back brought a smile to his face, and he knew if he looked at her he'd see the same. He found it hard not to lean back into her touch, and he silently hoped that one day she'd just throw caution to the wind and just wrap her arms around his neck and rest her head on top of his own. It was wishful thinking on his behalf though, and he knew better than to get distracted now, especially due to the events of the previous day. If he or Lisbon took their eye off the ball he knew that the consequences would be dire, if not for themselves but potentially for the others.

"Morning," she muttered, her voice still betraying a hint of sleep in its huskiness. "What're you up to?"

"Morning yourself," he said in reply, before he gestured to the pages in front of him. "Just glancing through the files again. I'm just trying to figure out who the girl is from yesterday. I thought she might be someone else I knew, but I don't recognise her at all."

"Maybe she was just a random victim?" Lisbon commented, moving from behind him to sit on another of the chairs. Jane found he missed the heat of her body straight away.

"I don't think so. He'll have picked her specifically for this, although I'm pretty sure I don't know her and no one on the team recognises her."

"Maybe it's part of a game then? Like some kind of twisted jigsaw? What if she's the first puzzle piece and we won't get the full picture until he kills again." It was a horrible theory, but one they couldn't rule out, at least not immediately.

"Mmm, maybe. He's certainly ruthless enough to do it. And he knows that it will drive me crazy trying to find any possible connections." Jane took another sip of his tea, pondering over Lisbon's words.

"I guess we know the meaning of the number he carved on her too."

Jane nodded.

"Yeah, it's pretty blatant even for him. I guess he wants us to know that he intends to follow through on his promise. I just hope we found out who the bastard is before he kills too many others. I don't even want to think about what will happen if we don't get him before he reaches zero. The only problem is how we hide this from the others. They'll want to theorise about the number."

Lisbon nodded softly, her hands cupped around the mug in her hands. She blew across the top slightly, and Jane watched the steam from the mug drift away across the kitchen.

"We don't have to tell them you know. Like you said, it's better if you and I are the only ones who know the truth. You never know, the guys might come up with something important specifically _because_ they aren't aware of any extra information. They're not blinded by the shortlist. They still think Red John could be anyone."

Jane didn't know what to say to that, so he just smiled at her, relived that she hadn't immediately demanded that the others be informed. Plus, she was right; having a fresh set of eyes on the problem might give them the crucial lead the two of them had been looking for in the last couple of months.

"We'll see what the guys have to say when we get to work," she said, glancing quickly at her watch. "I'm going out for a bit, so feel free to use the shower while I'm gone. You want to head in together?"

His car was parked outside, but he could easily tell the team that it had broken down again. It happened often enough that they never even raised an eyebrow anymore. He nodded. "Sounds good. What do you want for breakfast?"

Lisbon shrugged as she pulled her mp3 player out of the kitchen drawer and carefully unwrapped the headphones. "I don't mind, I'm happy with whatever's going."

He didn't reply, just nodded and watched as she left the house with a quick 'see you later.' Jane glanced at the clock that was mounted on the kitchen wall, making a note of the time. Lisbon would be out for about 45 minutes, which gave him plenty of time to have a shower, get dressed and make a start on breakfast. The sense of domesticity wasn't lost on him; he hadn't cooked breakfast for anyone other than himself since his wife, but he viewed the job as suitable payment for being allowed all but free reign to sleep at Lisbon's home, thus keeping an eye on her without seeming overbearing.

Jane finished his tea, washed the cup out and headed upstairs to use the shower and get himself ready for the first day in what would likely end up being another long and drawn out, but ultimately fruitless, investigation. He had no idea what Red John's plans were but he hoped that he, Lisbon and the others were able to keep up with whatever new game he seemed determined to play. The consequences would be catastrophic if they couldn't.

As he turned on the shower and let the warm water wash away the last of the previous night's disturbing dream, Jane leant his head against the cold, tiled wall and shut his eyes, trying to drown out the uncomfortable nagging feeling that he was missing a big part of the incredibly complicated puzzle that was Red John. Something so significant that he risked losing everything and everyone he held dear if he couldn't work it out. For the first time in what seemed like months, he felt helpless and at a loss for what to do. Words from the previous night echoed through his brain, as loud as they had been then: _'Why didn't you save me…you could have saved me Patrick but you didn't…you could have saved me…"_

He might not have been able to protect Angela or Charlotte, but Jane promised himself then, as he had done so many times since the rules had changed, that he would do everything in his power to stop the vicious murderer who haunted his dreams from taking anyone else he loved. It was a promise he intended to keep, by any means necessary.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **Here's the next chapter for you all. I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who's read/ reviewed/ favourited or followed so far, it really means a lot to me!

This chapter ended up quite a bit different from what I intended when I started it, but I think it will actually end up being more beneficial to the plot later on, which is always nice!  
As a warning, there is some strong language later on in the chapter, but nothing I'm sure you all can't handle ;)

Feedback, as usual, is always welcome :)

* * *

The two of them got the usual looks from Cho and the others as soon as they walked into the bullpen together, Lisbon leading the way with Jane following close behind, his hand once again resting on the small of her back. Jane didn't even have an opportunity to use the broken down car excuse before Rigsby was there, ready with a manila file of information to give to Lisbon. Jane wondered if the team had finally seen through the bullshit he and Lisbon had been telling them for the last two months. He was surprised they'd taken this long if he was honest; they were all excellent detectives. Still, just because the team had figured out that he and Lisbon were hiding something, didn't mean that it was time to let them in on the change in circumstances. It was still too risky, and following his vow in the shower that morning, Jane was more determined than ever to protect everyone he could.

He moved slowly across the room and sat on the familiar leather couch, quietly taking in all of the information that Rigsby and Cho were relaying to Lisbon. It seemed that the video surveillance outside the motel was a no go (not a surprise) and there were no witnesses for the time of the murder. Jane could see that Lisbon was focused solely on processing the information that she was receiving, and he was glad to see that some of the tension from the previous day had gone. It didn't surprise him that she had suddenly decided she needed to be the strong one in this. Following his mild panic attack at the crime scene then the nightmare the previous evening, he clearly wasn't handling this as well as he should be. Jane briefly wondered _why_ exactly that was. He knew it wasn't anything to do with the change in Red John's patterns; _that_ was something he'd been expecting for some time. Plus, he mused, he'd had two months to process the shift the case would be taking.

Sighing slightly, and deciding to leave that train of thought until later in the day, Jane looked around, and saw that Grace was sat at her desk, ignoring the conversation taking place between the other members of the team. He could see that she was frowning at something or other on the screen in front of her, as if the information she was reading was either incredibly frustrating or incredibly confusing to her. He quickly ignored the others and focused on the younger agent, sensing that this was where their best lead was going to come from.

"Something the matter Grace?" he asked, looking over at her. He watched as she shifted round to look at him. He didn't sense any hostility in her eyes relating to his and Lisbon's deception, but there was something akin to resignation. She'd always been a bright spark had Van Pelt, always knew when something was up. Jane realised that the younger agent probably knew that he and Lisbon were working on something important, and was likely just waiting for the two of them to confide in the rest of the team. He wondered if they would ever get an opportunity to do just that.

"I just can't seem to make sense of this," she started, turning to gesture at the screen. Jane lifted himself up and wandered over, standing behind her to look at the monitor.

"What is it?" he asked, gazing at the screen. The victim from yesterday stared back at him, the drivers licence photo showing him a face and neck unmarred by horrific injuries. The green eyes and brown hair brought back the mild panic from the crime scene the day before however, and he glanced up at Lisbon just to make sure she was still there. Jane knew he was being irrational, but the frustration with Red John and his closeness to Lisbon was causing him doubt everything he knew.

"Well, we managed to ID our victim from yesterday via her fingerprints, as there was no ID left at the scene. It says here that our Jane Doe is actually Susan Harper. 19 years old, originally from Oregon, but moved to Sacramento with her family 5 years ago. But, the really weird thing is that I also found official Sac PD records to say that Susan Harper died 3 years ago in a car accident. It doesn't make sense."

"Can you… uh… can you bring up the accident report?" Jane asked, looking at the picture on the screen once more. There was still, thankfully, no flicker of recognition in his brain. Grace nodded as he did what he requested. He suddenly sensed movement behind him, and knew that Lisbon and the others had joined them, each one of them taking a place around the back of Van Pelt's chair.

A new page appeared on Grace's screen and Jane flicked his eyes over it, taking in all the important information. The younger agent was right; the official report clearly confirmed that Susan Harper, the victim from yesterday's brutal Red John attack, was supposed to have died three years previously. What the hell was going on?

"That is so weird," Rigsby muttered behind him. "How could someone who's been dead for 3 years have been murdered yesterday?"

There was a resounding silence in the room as everyone tried to come up with a solution to what seemed to be an impossible problem.

"Wait," Lisbon suddenly said, breaking the quiet of the bullpen. Everyone turned to face her, and Jane watched as she appeared to have an idea. "Does it give more details about the crash itself?"

Grace looked at the screen and, after a couple of seconds, clicked a link. It showed a newspaper report, and a couple of edited photos of what looked like the crash scene. Jane looked at Lisbon, sending her a reassuring smile when she looked back at him. He knew that no matter how many years passed, the pain of losing someone in such a brutal manner would never really go away, and he was glad to see that she wasn't letting the memories of her mother get to her, at least not in front of her team.

He turned his attention back to the monitor and quickly noted that the crash that had killed Susan Harper had clearly been a big one. The photo showed several cars, as well as a large truck, scattered across what looked like a part of the freeway. From what he could see on the photo, there looked like there had been a fire.

He listened carefully as Grace read the notes from the newspaper report.

"_A large traffic collision involving 3 cars and an 18-wheeler closed the I-50 in both directions for several hours yesterday. The Sac PD and SFD were immediately called to the scene, but they were not able to reach the crash site in time to prevent a fire breaking out. The fire destroyed two cars, as well as the cargo that the truck was carrying, believed to be a small quantity of airplane fuel. This cargo is believed to have contributed to the fierceness of the blaze that broke out, but investigations are still taking place. One crash victim was believed to have died as a result of the fire. She was later identified as Susan Harper, 19, from Sacramento. Four other victims, including the driver of the truck, are still in hospital. Sources confirm that three of the four patients are deemed to be in critical condition."_

Again, silence fell in the room as Grace finished reading, but Lisbon was quick to carry on with her train of thought. Jane looked over, keen to find out what idea she had latched onto.

"Van Pelt, does it say how Susan Harper was identified by the coroner after the crash?"

"Yes Boss. It says here that due to the damage to the car and the body, identification was done via dental records and the fact that the car was rented in Susan Harper's name."

Jane watched as Lisbon stood up and moved back from Grace's desk, and saw Rigsby and Cho move as well. He retreated back to his couch, happy to listen to whatever Lisbon had to say.

"Right guys. I think it's safe to say that we need to follow a lot of leads with this one. Either the woman killed by Red John yesterday _isn't_ Susan Harper and we're back to square one with an ID, or it _is_ Susan Harper and we have an unnamed victim in a car crash from 3 years ago." Lisbon looked round at them all, and Jane could see that she was now beginning to show signs of stress, the slight hunching of her shoulders and the frown a dead giveaway for someone as tuned into her moods as he was.

As if having a new Red John case wasn't enough, especially with the serial killers new rules coming into play, they had what could potentially be a three year old cold case on top. It was almost as if Red John had selected their victim specifically to be as demanding investigation wise as possible. As a distraction technique it was incredibly effective, but Jane couldn't help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive to the sadistic man's motives. He saw Rigsby, Cho and Grace all receive their orders from the woman before him, and he waited until they had all left the bullpen before he spoke.

"You ok?" He asked, belatedly realising it was the same thing she'd said to him last night after his nightmare. A quick vision of a smiley face on a metal trailer flashed before his eyes but he ignored it, knowing that her welfare was far more important than his subconscious playing games.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, a slight hint of hesitation in her voice. He didn't call her up on it though. "I just feel that we're all being played and I don't like it. It's like he picked the most awkward of victims to kill. And for what purpose? To cause more paperwork? To slow down the investigation?"

"Mmm," he replied, looking up at her as he stood. They made their way slowly to the break room, both seemingly deciding they needed a drink as they talked things through. "He's definitely picked her on purpose, and I'd hazard a guess that there's a hidden motive behind it. You may have been right this morning; she could just be part of a puzzle and we have to work out where she fits in."

Jane watched as Lisbon released a frustrated sigh and moved towards the cupboard, clearly looking for her favourite coffee mug. She took out his familiar cup and saucer at the same time, and he returned the favour by flipping the switch on the coffee machine. They were quiet as they made their respective drinks, and Jane was drawn back to the domesticity of that morning when the two of them had been sat in her kitchen.

"So," he said, handing her the sugar as she poured her coffee from the machine. "What's _our_ plan of action?"

Lisbon stirred the sugar in slowly, looking up at him as she answered.

"I think we need to go and have a word with Susan Harper's family, see if they can give us any information. They'll be able to provide a formal ID as well, although I think we should hold back on revealing that their daughter may have died yesterday, not three years ago."

Jane merely nodded and took a sip of his near boiling tea, watching her carefully over the rim of the porcelain. He was pleased to note that she seemed to have relaxed slightly; although he was sure it had something to do with the fresh intake of caffeine rather than a sudden acceptance of their more dangerous circumstances. Still, they had a new lead, and he had a feeling that a visit to the parents of Susan Harper could prove incredibly useful.

* * *

It took Jane all of three seconds to assess the family home in front of him. Small, but poorly maintained garden: no one within the household with neither the time nor inclination to work on what were obviously classed as mundane tasks. Large house but seemingly few occupants: fair amount of money somewhere in family background. Suspiciously full garbage can outside, judging from what he could see past the half on lid: possible addiction in the house, most likely alcohol.

He glanced at Lisbon, who seemed to notice the garbage the same time he did. From the look on her face it was a familiar sight, and his suspicions were confirmed when she frowned slightly at the sight of several empty whiskey bottles and numerous beer cans peering out from under the half closed lid. Jane knew Lisbon hated these kind of situations, and with the recent memories of her mother brought up by their investigation into Susan Harper, a couple of things were obviously hitting a little close to home for the senior agent. It didn't matter though, Jane mused, he knew that Lisbon was strong enough to compartmentalise all of the feelings that were being dredged up until they had at least left the scene.

They stood on the doorstep, and he turned to Lisbon quickly before she moved to open the door. Grace had been unable to find any further information about the family before they'd arrived, so they were essentially going into the situation blind. He had a feeling that whatever they found in the house was going to be a difficult situation, for one or both of them. He placed a hand on Lisbon's shoulder to get her attention, and he smiled slightly as she looked up at him, a look of confusion on her face.

"You good?" he asked, trying to read her expression in the morning light. At least, he mused, the weather was a little better today.

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone clearly telling him that she wasn't doing as well as her words implied. Still, he wasn't going to push her, she was clearly trying to process a lot at the moment. And Teresa Lisbon was not someone who one should cross when she had a purpose in mind; he'd learnt that lesson long ago.

He nodded, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, turning back towards the door as she did the same. "Ok."

She knocked quietly on the door of the house, and the two of them waited patiently for someone to open the door. Half a minute later, just as Lisbon raised her hand to knock again, they heard the deadbolts being slid back, and a chain being taken off of its hook. Jane watched as the door opened, revealing a young girl of no more than 14 standing in the doorway. He could hear a young boy shouting something in the background, although the words were indecipherable to him. He turned his attention to the girl now holding the door open.

"Can I help you?" The girl asked, glancing between the two of them. She looked tired, hair slightly messy and pulled up in a loose ponytail, and the clothes she had on were old and worn out; not something he'd expect to see on someone so young. He could sense that this child was grown up beyond her years, and he had a horrible feeling he knew why. Lisbon, on the other hand, seemed determined to carry on as if nothing was out of place.

"Hi, my name's Teresa Lisbon, and this is Patrick Jane. We're from the CBI, and we were wondering if we could come in and ask a few questions. It's about Susan Harper."

Jane saw that the girl seemed to flinch at the mention of what was presumably her sister's name. He remained quiet, but smiled softly at the girl when she looked at him. Lisbon continued when the girl seemed reluctant to open the door any further.

"Is there someone we can talk to? Your Mom? Or maybe your Dad?"

The girl seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in and looked up determinately at Lisbon.

"My Mum's dead. It's just my Dad now. You can try and talk to him; can't guarantee you'll get much from him, especially if you're here about _her._"

Jane immediately felt uneasy, as if he knew _exactly_ what scene they would face when they entered the house. He felt Lisbon suddenly hesitate beside him. He cursed Red John once more. Not only was the bastard killing again, but he'd seemed to hone in on Lisbon as his next target for his cruel games of manipulation. It was all coming together; the look of the victim, the car crash, the dead mother, the alcoholic father, and, most of all, the young girl left in charge of a household she was too young to manage by herself.

The girl opened the door to let them in, and as her back turned, Jane reached down and wrapped his fingers briefly around hers, giving her hand a comforting squeeze before he relinquished his hold and motioned for her to precede him into the house. Lisbon didn't mention the gesture, didn't even acknowledge it, but Jane was pleased to see that it had at least given her the courage to go in and face a situation she hadn't seen in nigh on 20 years.

Inside, Jane once again took in the information available to him, using his skills of observation to analyse everything in sight. The house was neat, but not tidy, as if someone was just about keeping the place in an orderly manner. There were photos on the wall, and a couple of glances at the pictures held within the frames confirmed to him that their victim from yesterday was in fact Susan Harper. Which was a bit of a relief, Jane thought as he followed Lisbon into the living area, because at least they had somewhere to go with this lead. Whatever game Red John was playing, it was good to know that they were able to make at least _some_ progress in the investigation.

He saw Lisbon's face flicker in recognition as well, and he was relieved that at least some of the worry seem to seep away from her face. The identification of the car crash victim could be handed off to Sac PD or another unit in CBI if needs be; no need to add to their workload if the victim from _that_ accident hadn't been directly involved in this Red John murder.

There were several pictures that were eerily reminiscent of ones that he saw frequently at Lisbon's house: whole family photos, pictures of all the children in the house, pictures of parents obviously in love. Jane briefly wondered if this was what Lisbon's house had been like when she was younger; remnants of happier times covering the walls, but the atmosphere entirely different in the rooms throughout the house. There were several photos of the three Harper children with both their parents, the smiles wide and loving. Then, more recently, some with the just the children and their father, and, Jane noted, the smiles captured in the picture were no longer reflected in the children's eyes.

He was shaken from his introspection by a loud shout emanating from what he presumed was the living area.

"Kelly! Where the hell are you? Did you open the fucking door? I told you not to talk to anyone today! Go and get me my goddamn lunch, I'm starving here!"

Jane watched as the girl, Kelly, froze and turned to face himself and Lisbon. There was a look of panic on her face, her eyes betraying the fear she obviously felt. Lisbon reached out, and placed a comforting hand on the girl's forearm. She spoke quietly to her, taking the same careful tone she'd done the previous night with him.

"It's ok, we're right here. You did the right thing letting us in, we need to talk about Susan with your father."

Kelly didn't reply, only nodded. Jane noted her attention had shifted from the man in the living room to a small child peering around at her from the corner of another room. The boy looked about 9, but he was shocked to see that even this young child's eyes were tired and full of fear. He obviously didn't like the fact that his father was shouting again. Jane sank to his knees quietly, and smiled at the boy.

"Hey there," he said, putting his hand out in greeting. "My name's Patrick and this is Teresa." The boy looked petrified, and Jane quickly understood why. This child had only ever really had one adult male role model, and it seemed that all this boy's father did was drink, shout and cause misery in his children's lives.

"It's ok Sean, they're with the police. They're the good guys." Kelly's voice was quiet as she looked down at her brother. Sean seemed to take confidence from his sister's words and wandered away from the doorway, then thrust out his hand to grab Jane's. Jane wrapped his fingers around the boys and ruffled his hair slightly, pleased to receive a smile and a childish giggle in return. He stood up again and turned to face Lisbon and Kelly once more. Lisbon was smiling wistfully, and Jane wondered if anyone had ever visited her like this.

"Kelly, why don't you take Sean and go play. We'll go see your father," he said, looking at Lisbon for confirmation. She nodded and smiled softly at Kelly, who had an arm wrapped around her brother's shoulder. Jane recognised the gesture as one of protection, and he felt an immediate need to help these children out. He got the feeling that Lisbon was the same.

Kelly motioned towards the door to the living area.

"He's in there. I'm not sure if he'll help at all. Just…well, just be careful, he's um," she paused, as if unsure what to say. "He doesn't like to talk to people if he's been drinking."

Jane saw Lisbon nod again, before she reached into her back pocket and pulled out one of her rarely used business cards.

"Here," Lisbon said, looking at Kelly with a determined look in her eye. "Take this. If you ever have any problems, or you just need someone to talk to, give me a call. Anytime. I... I've been here Kelly, I know what it's like. Sometimes all you need is an ear. We'll do everything to help your Dad too ok?"

The terrified girl took the card, and nodded, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She turned, Sean at her side, and they disappeared towards a different part of the house.

"Let's go talk to the father," she said, and Jane noted that the determined look had reappeared in her eyes. He knew that whatever the outcome from this conversation, Lisbon had at least been able to do some good. He had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before the young girl was reaching out for help.

"KELLY!" The shout was loud, and echoed through the quiet house. The two of them walked carefully into living room, and were immediately spotted by the man in the large lounge chair. They could hear the television on in the background, stuck on some documentary or other, and there was the strong smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke in the air. Jane watched as the man stood rather unsteadily, and glared at the two strangers that had entered his house.

"Who the hell are you? Get out of my fucking house! I'll call the police!"

Lisbon stepped forward, one hand casually moving her jacket aside to reveal her badge and gun. Jane watched the man's drunken, unfocused eyes flicker to the proof of her identity, and he seemed to back down, if only slightly.

"It's ok Mr Harper. My name's Teresa Lisbon and this is Patrick Jane. We're both from the CBI. Your daughter let us in, we've have some important questions we'd like to ask you."

Jane could see that the man had clearly been drinking for a few hours, judging by the numerous cans scattered around the area. He wondered how long his habit had been a problem. Most likely he'd been a drinker for most of his adult life, but it had been exacerbated after the death of his wife and likely the death of Susan shortly thereafter.

"Oh yeah?" Mr Harper said, continuing to glare at them. "What questions? I haven't done anything, you can't prove anything."

Jane had a feeling that Mr Harper was concerned that someone had finally twigged about his clearly abusive relationship with his children. He made a note to ask Van Pelt to track any hospital visits Sean or Kelly had made when they got back to CBI. He had a suspicion that there had been a few admissions that had been easily passed off as 'accidents'. He remembered Lisbon telling him years ago that her father had been violent, had once beaten one of her brothers half to death, and yet hadn't been able to recall the incident when the alcohol had left his system. Jane had a sneaking suspicion that the some sort of abuse occurred here. The man wasn't beyond saving, he was sure, but it would be a long and difficult road for him. He hoped he and Lisbon weren't too late to help out. Maybe they could get this family back on the right track; that would certainly be a great thing to come from a Red John case, surely.

"We're here about your other daughter Mr Harper. Susan."

Jane knew that the man would give them one of two reactions to hearing his eldest daughter's name: aggression or resignation. Mr Harper seemed to favour the first after several drinks. The man's voice was powerful and laced with anger as he spoke. Jane watched as he placed his latest drink, what looked like 4 fingers of whiskey, on the small table to the right of the chair.

"What do you want to know about Susan for? She's been dead 3 years. Killed in a big auto crash over on the freeway. There are no questions to ask, so you can get out!"

Jane felt Lisbon sigh next to him, and he knew that her frustration and anger were reaching critical levels. He knew that very little of that actually had anything to do with the man's hostility and almost everything to do with the similarities to her own father, her own past.

"Look, Mr Harper, I'm afraid that Susan's name has arisen as part of an on-going investigation."

"On-going investigation? Are you not listening lady?" Harper tried to make his way over to them, walking on unbalanced legs, the alcohol he'd consumed clearly having an effect on his co-ordination. He was a big man, tall, with muscles to spare. Yes, he was drunk, but Jane figured he could still cause someone some serious damage in this state; probably even more so than if he was sober. Jane stood up taller, and moved to stand beside Lisbon, the gesture protective, yet not as noticeable as to take away from her authority. Harper seemed to stop at the look in Jane's eyes, although it might also have had something to do with Lisbon making another move towards her weapon. The man continued his alcohol fuelled rant.

"Susan's dead. She can't be part of an on-going investigation," Harper was pointing a stubby finger at the two of them, and Jane noted that his other hand was balled into a fist. Clearly Mr Harper had many deep-seated issues – anger being one of them. He and Lisbon needed to get out of here as soon as possible, as well as get this man some help before he hurt someone, specifically, his children. "Nah, she can't be involved in anything anymore. Not unless it's got something to do with that man."

Jane's gaze flickered to Lisbon for a moment, noting the slight look of confusion on her face. Were they about to get another lead in the case? It seemed too good to be true. He held his breath, tension thrumming though his body in anticipation. He wondered if Lisbon was feeling the same.

"What man Mr Harper?" Lisbon asked. It seemed that there could be another Red John lead within all of this mess after all.

"Ah shit, what was his name?" Harper seemed to be struggling to retrieve the relevant information from his memory in his drunken state. Jane and Lisbon stood quietly, patiently, giving the man in front of them time to process his thoughts. "Stevens? No, that's not it. He's that fucking nutcase with the church. Stiles maybe? Yeah, that was it. Stiles. Bret Stiles."


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **Here I am with the next chapter! I'm glad I managed to intrigue some of you with the twist at the end of the chapter; hopefully I can keep that up throughout the story! Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing etc :)

Enjoy...

* * *

After the initial shock had worn off, Jane remained stock still in the middle of the Harper's living room. Their first major lead in the latest Red John case and it had apparently led them straight to one of their seven suspects. Either Red John had been incredibly careless, or he was even more devious that Jane had anticipated. He looked over at Lisbon, who was sporting the same combination of shock and confusion on her face that he probably had on his own. He could tell that his partner was quite possibly on the verge of being quite overwhelmed by information; both case-related and not.

In the meantime, Mr Harper had ended up standing right in front of the two of them, and Jane had to mentally prevent himself from taking a very noticeable step backwards; the stale smell of alcohol, sweat and fast food even more pungent now than it had been when Harper had been lounging across the room.

He ignored the brute of a man and tried to process what was going on. Suspicion flowed through him, a warning that something wasn't right. He turned towards Lisbon and could the conflict of emotions spreading across her face. It seemed that the suspicious nature of the lead wasn't only evident to him.

Lisbon seemed to decide that they needed to deal with it as soon as possible, so she turned back to face Harper, a determined look on her face.

"Mr Harper, are you sure it's Bret Stiles. Leader of Visualize?"

Harper paused, taking in the new information before he nodded, his eyes slightly unfocused as he did so.

"Yup, that's the one. Susan wanted to join up with them before she died. Said a couple of people she knew from school had joined and they were really happy. Susan told me once that she'd spoken to Stiles herself, when he'd come round to one of the local colleges for some kind of charity thing. She was smitten with the whole thing; wanted to do good. I told her she could wait until Kelly and Sean were older then she could do what she wanted. I mean, I can't look after them both on my own. I know I'm not doing such a great job of it at the moment…"

He trailed off and for the first time, Jane saw the vulnerability in Harper's eyes, something that told him that the man in front of him was barely holding on to whatever sanity he had left, that the deaths of his wife and daughter had hit him harder than Harper had thought possible. Jane knew then that the man stood before Lisbon and himself had some chance at redemption, as long as he took the help that was offered.

Lisbon, it seemed, had picked up on the signals from Harper as well, and she carefully moved towards him, a hand out as a means of letting him know that she meant no harm. Jane wondered if she was going to break the news of the truth behind his daughters death.

"Mr Harper," she started, voice quiet, soothing, "We'll have a look into Bret Stiles. He's certainly now a person of interest in our investigation, for which we're very grateful. I think, however, that you may need to sit down while we discuss a couple of other things…"

Harper flinched slightly as she laid her hand on his arm, but Jane watched as he accepted her instruction to sit down and he wandered back over to the chair he had recently vacated. Jane stood back, admiring the way that she spoke softly to the man. He imagined that this was something that she had done often; trying to talk her own father down from a furious rage before he lashed out, imparting some important information about herself or her brothers that he needed to know.

Harper seemed to take the news that his daughter hadn't in fact died in a car crash, but had instead been a victim of a vicious serial killer with something akin to resignation. It was, Jane mused, as if all the fight had left him. He couldn't quite hear what Lisbon said to him next, but he saw her hand over another business card and place her hand on the man's shoulder as he nodded, averting his gaze from the woman in front of him.

Jane didn't say anything, just stood patiently as she told Harper to take care and to give her a call, and he waved at the two children sitting at the top of the stairs on their way out of the house.

He waited until they were both safely back in the SUV before he decided he needed to speak, cautiously looking across at the brown haired woman beside him. She didn't turn to face him however, her gaze solely focused out of the windscreen. Jane wondered if she would even deign him with a conversation on the way back. He took a deep breath, trying to find a way to start what was likely to be an awkward conversation.

Lisbon, seemingly channelling her own 'physic' powers, cut him off before he could even utter a sound. Her voice was terse, but he sensed the mild vulnerability underneath the rough exterior.

"I don't… I can't talk about it now Jane. Please. Let's just wait until we get back home tonight ok?"

He nodded, wondering whether she'd even noticed that she'd just assumed he'd be sleeping at hers again that evening. He didn't mind, he'd figured that now Red John had started killing again, he probably wouldn't be content unless he was at least in her general vicinity at all times.

* * *

They arrived back at the CBI 25 minutes later. They'd rung ahead to Grace to let her know what they'd discovered at the Harper's house, and she was there when they appeared to tell them that the dental records from the original coroner's report three years ago had come through from Sac PD.

Looking round the bullpen, Jane saws that Cho and Rigsby seemed to rushing around placing up the latest Red John crime scene photos while other members of the SCU were almost scuttling around with various papers, files and boxes. It was a typical scene when Red John emerged he'd noticed. Any new leads in the investigation into the serial killer always seemed to give everyone in the SCU a fresh impetus to catch him, regardless of how unsuccessful they usually were.

Jane and Lisbon stood behind Grace's desk as she brought up the coroner's report she had received.

"I went back over all the details we had of the victim, and took into account all the new information you got from visiting the house," Grace started, clicking her way through the various pages of the report. "Everything matched up in the report between what the coroner wrote down and what Sac PD learnt about the victim three years ago; age, height, weight etc. Despite the injuries and damage from the fire, the coroner was thorough in his work. There was nothing to indicate that the victim _wasn't_ Susan Harper."

"Until…" Jane supplied, having a vague feeling that he knew where this was going.

Grace turned and smiled up at him.

"Until you get to the dental records. It's so small that you wouldn't notice if you were just glancing through, especially as the case was closed and Susan Harper's death was deemed an accident."

"What did you find?" Lisbon asked, leaning slightly closer. Jane watched as Grace brought up a page that focused on the dental records.

"When I looked over the official dental records, something didn't seem right, so I went back and checked the Harper's dental background. I found out that Susan Harper had had a small bridge put in after a childhood accident. But see," she pointed to the screen, "there's no evidence that the person caught in the fire had had any kind of dental surgery at all."

"Good work Grace," Lisbon said, smiling at the younger agent. "With the photo evidence from the house and this, we can say that the victim killed in the car accident _wasn't _Susan Harper." Sure, it was information they already knew, but Jane was thankful they actually had some hard evidence. Still, he looked at Grace, who appeared to have something else she wanted to say. Sure enough, she spoke again, peering up at himself and Lisbon.

"That's not it though Boss, "Grace continued. "I didn't spot it the first time. But I did when I looked over it again."

Grace pointed to the printed name at the bottom of the dental x-ray. Jane looked closer then pulled himself back, shocked. Grace saw his reaction and nodded.

"I know, right. I mean, he's been blatant before, but this is something new. It's almost as if he _planned_ to kill Susan Harper in the future and was just taking his time about it. It's like he's taunting us."

_Oh Grace, _Jane thought, _how close you are to the truth._

"Am I reading this right?" Lisbon commented, looking at the others.

"Yup," Jane replied simply. The typed name was there clear as day, and Jane had a feeling that the game he and Lisbon were involved in was about to get even more complicated. Printed clearly, for anyone who bothered to look was a name: R. Tagliaferro.

The fact that Red John had been so obvious in using his most recognisable alias with Susan Harper made Jane believe that he had _wanted_ anyone who investigated the death to discover the discrepancy and acknowledge just _who_ was behind the disappearance of the 19 year old. It was another piece of the puzzle that Jane couldn't quite work out, leaving him feeling incredibly frustrated. It was obvious that Red John had altered the dental records for Susan Harper all those years ago. But why her? And why now? What was so special about Susan Harper?

He looked over at Lisbon, who seemed to have filed away the information for analysis later, and instead seemed intent on pushing the investigation further forward.

"Any new leads from you guys?" Lisbon asked, and Jane watched as the others finally stopped and acknowledged their presence.

Cho shrugged as he answered, leaning back against his desk.

"Not really. We've asked for camera footage from the 6 blocks surrounding the motel, but haven't got it yet."

"Yeah," Rigsby continued, "And I tried to track Susan Harper's financials over the last 3 years, but if she set up another account after her 'death' it isn't under her original name. I've asked a couple of favours from fraud to see if they can track anything down, but they said it would be a few hours at least."

Jane thought over the new information carefully. Whoever had orchestrated Susan Harper's disappearance three years ago had certainly thought through a lot of the most critical details, which would obviously hinder their investigation in the short term. But it seemed that Stiles had essentially been given to them on a silver platter. It was strange, and seemed to be leading to a big can of worms that Jane really didn't want to open. He looked at Lisbon carefully, trying not to reveal too much. He knew the team were aware that Visualize, and therefore Bret Stiles, had come up as a possible avenue of investigation, but he and Lisbon still couldn't risk letting the others know just how important Stiles could prove. Not yet anyway.

"Seems that Stiles is our only real lead we have at the moment then," Jane said, eyes still fixed on the name on the screen in front of Grace.

"I guess," Lisbon started, turning to look at Jane, "that means that we'll be heading over to see the leader of our favourite cult this afternoon."

"Oh goody," Jane muttered, feeling slightly frustrated. "I have missed good old Bret recently."

Lisbon seemed to ignore his tone, and instead moved towards her office, clearly wanting some time alone to process what had happened in the last couple of hours. Jane decided not to push his luck, and instead made his way to the break room to grab a cup of tea and go over the coroner's report into 'Susan Harper's' death from 3 years before. Lisbon would come get him when she was ready to go.

* * *

The familiar surroundings of the Visualize Sacramento Headquarters only served to wind Jane up more, and judging from the tension in Lisbon's shoulder, she was feeling the same. They were shepherded in by an incredibly perky young lady, whose attempts at flirting with Jane had him rolling his eyes and Lisbon softly chuckling behind him. He glared at her when the opportunity arose, but Lisbon just ignored him and moved past him into the main office area.

Bret Stiles looked up from his desk as Jane and Lisbon entered his office. Jane was wary of the man; despite having the appearance of a gentile yet charismatic leader of what was essentially a cult, Bret Stiles was dangerous. He chanced a sideways glance at Lisbon, just in case she reacted as she had in the presence of Partridge. Fortunately, she seemed to be able to put up with Stiles' company; although that was likely due to their past run-ins rather than some belief that he couldn't be a vicious serial killer.

"Ah Patrick, how good to see you again!" Jane watched as Stiles stood and offered his hand. He took it without hesitation, and watched him do the same to Lisbon. "And I see you've bought the delightful Agent Lisbon with you as well. I have to say; I'm finding it very hard to imagine what it is I'm supposed to have done this time round. Do you care to fill me in?"

Jane was pleased to see that Lisbon wasn't showing any outwards signs of panic, and noted that she immediately went into 'investigation mode'.

"Mr Stiles, we've recently come across another Red John murder and the victim has direct links to you."

Jane watched as Stiles' eyebrows rose slightly at Lisbon's bluntness. He smirked a little. It seemed Lisbon wasn't quite as intimidated by the man in front of her as she'd initially seemed.

"Well," Stiles remarked, leaning back slightly in his chair and casting his arms wide in a show of casual innocence. "I have to admit, I wasn't quite expecting that!"

Jane studied Stiles, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. Would he pick up on the fact they suspected him of being Red John? Jane sat quietly for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Her name was Susan Harper. She was a member here and she was killed by Red John two nights ago, slaughtered in a motel room off the I-80."

Lisbon produced a photograph of Susan Harper that her father had sent over for them to use. Stiles took it, studying it carefully. Jane watched him run a hand through his thinning hair and looked on as he frowned in confusion.

"Do you recognise her Mr Stiles?"

"I'm afraid I do Agent Lisbon. Susan was a lovely girl, very popular around here. She joined us maybe two and a half, three years ago. She was a mainstay in our charity department since then, looking after various aspects of our fundraising in relation to numerous organisations."

Lisbon took back the photo and placed it back in her file, and she looked across at Jane before she started her next line of questioning.

"Did you know that Susan Harper, according to official police reports, was killed in a car accident three years ago?"

Jane watched as again the eyebrows rose on the dignified brow. If he _was_ Red John, Stiles was very good at hiding it.

"Really? Well that _is_ an interesting turn of events! Are you certain of this?"

"We are, although we are working on the assumption that Susan Harper's dental records were switched with another victim at the time of the official identification. Would you happen to know anything about that Mr Stiles?"

Stiles frowned, sitting himself up straighter in his chair and fixing Lisbon with a pointed gaze. Jane couldn't tell if it was the look of a killer or not. Stiles was well versed in leading people astray and controlling them through his preaching; he was almost as confident and enigmatic on the stage as Jane himself had been all those years ago. He found it was quite a frightening prospect when he thought about it.

"I'm not sure I entirely appreciate this line of questioning Agent Lisbon. Will I be requiring my attorney in the near future?"

"Only if you have something to hide Mr Stiles." Lisbon was calm as she spoke, and Jane could tell that she suspected Stiles of having at least _some_ part in Susan Harper's 3 year disappearance; the man certainly had a reputation for hiding things during official investigations.

"Well then, I'll be delaying that phone call for the moment then. I have nothing to hide in regards to Miss Harper."

Jane pondered over the fact that Stiles had only claimed having nothing to hide in relation to Susan Harper… was that a veiled confession that he held more dangerous secrets? Jane almost laughed to himself. Of course Stiles had secrets; over the years the church leader had hinted at knowing the identity of Red John, framed himself for a murder and helped Lorelei escape from prison. And those were only the things that Jane knew about. If there was one man capable of hiding something it was the man sat almost pompously in front of himself and Lisbon.

"Did Susan Harper ever explain to you _why_ she joined Visualize when she did? Any indications that there was something going on at home?" Jane asked, trying to determine if Stiles had any idea about Susan Harper's unhappy home life prior to her initiation into the church.

Stiles shook his head, standing up and heading towards a cabinet in the far corner and pouring himself a glass of water. He offered Jane and Lisbon some, but they both refused, the two of them determined to get the interview completed as quickly as possible.

"No, I'm afraid she didn't. I suspected something of course. No one that young should have eyes as sad as young Susan did. I could tell that there was something she wasn't telling us all about her past, but she wasn't particularly forthcoming with the relevant information about it, I'm sorry to say. We usually leave those who don't want to talk about such things to explain their fears and worries in their weekly videos." He paused, as if trying to recall something important that was on the tip of his tongue. Eventually, as if seeming to remember an extremely important piece of information, he spoke again, his voice calm and determined.

"She did focus a lot of her attention on charities relating to alcoholism and abuse though, so really, anyone with an ounce of intelligence could tell that she was working through something that related to those dreadful things. Clearly she was one of those strong people who managed to escape such horrors. I often worry about those who are stuck in abusive homes; I fear they rarely leave such places completely undamaged."

Jane saw Lisbon flinch slightly at Stiles' words, clearly reacting to the disregard of her past. He wished he could offer some sort of comfort, but knew that Stiles would read more into the gesture than the two of them would appreciate. It was just going to have to be something they added to the 'things we need to discuss at home' pile. He wondered if Red John had set up this whole scheme just to screw with his partner's head. Jane wouldn't put it past him, sadistic son of a bitch that he was.

Jane took up the helm of the conversation, giving Lisbon a few moments to compose herself. He wondered if she was as close to the edge as he'd been a couple of nights ago.

"Have you got an alibi for two nights ago Bret? I wouldn't normally ask but, you know, needs must and all that." Jane shrugged as he asked the question, trying to keep a slightly playful aspect to his manner. It wouldn't do Stiles any good to think he was up to something. The last time he'd had to speak to this man, he'd helped get Lorelei out of prison and everyone knew how well _that_ had turned out. Clearly Bret Stiles wasn't a man to be trusted, whether he ended up being Red John or not.

"Why, as a matter of fact I have." Stiles stood up once more and wandered over to a table by the door of his office. He lifted a couple of pieces of paper out of the way before he retrieved something and brought it back over, handing a newspaper to Jane as he passed him. It was a local paper, not national, but the headline was clear all the same: _CHURCH HOLDS FUNDRAISER FOR LOCAL HOSPICE._

"I was here on the night in question, raising money for a wonderful little hospice on the outskirts of Sacramento. There were a good couple of hundred people here to witness me talking to all those important people, and of course," Stiles said, gesturing to the photo, "the pièce de résistance."

Jane held the paper between himself and Lisbon, allowing her to take a look at Stiles' alibi. Sure enough, there was a picture of Stiles on a stage, handing over a large check for what looked like just over 75,000 dollars to a short woman in glasses, named in the article as hospice manager Emma Hoult.

"Is that all Agent Lisbon? I have a very busy schedule this afternoon you see and I need to know whether it's necessary for me to cancel any further appointments."

Jane watched as Lisbon stood and shook her head, handing the paper back to Stiles.

"I think that's all we need for the moment thank you Mr Stiles. Just stay in town for a few days ok? My team and I may have some follow up questions in regards to Miss Harper's death."

Stiles nodded, and moved to show them both out of the office. Jane noticed that Stiles placed his hand on the small of Lisbon's back, and he felt a rush of jealousy rush through him, as well as a slight feeling of panic that Red John could be touching Lisbon at that very second and he couldn't stop him. He took a deep breath to calm himself; it wouldn't do anyone any good for him to panic over something that probably meant nothing.

"There's no issue of leaving at this moment my dear Agent Lisbon. I've got a full diary of dates within Sacramento for the next two weeks. It is fundraising season after all and it's incredibly poor manners if the head of the Church disappears to parts unknown! In fact, if you want to keep a track of where I am if you need me, have a word with Sandra here," he said, waving to the enthusiastic woman who'd shown them in earlier. "She's got a record of all my future appointments. I have no qualms about you having possession of them Agent Lisbon. Anything to ensure that your investigation is carried out with as few issues as possible. After all, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of you and the apprehension of that dreadful Red John now would I?"

He shook both their hands again, and closed the door to his office behind them. Jane immediately turned his most dazzling smile at Sandra, who grinned back, and proceeded to enquire after Stiles' appointment list.

He noticed that Lisbon followed him quietly, and he wondered if he should make an effort to cheer her up before they returned to CBI. Maybe he could convince her to stop of at Marie's on the way…

* * *

"Does it not seem strange to you?" Lisbon asked him later that evening, as she leant back against her kitchen counter. She had a bear claw in her hand, but she casually broke it in half and tossed one piece to him across the room. He caught it and swiftly raised it in thanks, before taking a bite. He swallowed and then answered her previous question.

"Everything seems pretty strange to me at the moment Lisbon. What in particular is setting off your alarm bells?"

"Just the fact that we have a seven person suspect list, Red John threatens to kill more often, he does so and gives us a countdown. _Then,_ as soon as we ID the victim she appears to be linked to one of the seven people on our list."

Jane mused on the thought for a moment. She was right, it was strange. And, more likely than not, completely planned by Red John. Throwing links with the suspects into the equation was an easy way to screw with himself and Lisbon, and he had a particular feeling that Red John had that very thought in mind.

"It's just another one of his ploys to get into our heads. Just like the family of Susan Harper being reminiscent of your own background, and the fact that she looked…" Jane didn't finish his thought; the longer he was able to deny that the victim reminded him of the woman stood in front of him the better. He knew it would be a slippery slope from there and he had to be strong for Lisbon as well as himself. He decided to change the subject. "Well, anyway, something about Stiles was off this afternoon don't you think?"

Lisbon nodded, chewing quietly on her half of the bear claw. Obviously she wasn't going to pick him up on his usual diversionary technique.

"Yeah. It was as if he knew full well why we were there. I mean, he had all the elements he needed for his alibi prepared."

"Mmm," Jane replied, gazing out of the kitchen window, trying to process his thoughts. "It did seem a little convenient. And he was more cheery than someone who was being questioned over a murder should be. He was confident, even for him."

Lisbon didn't reply, just continued to eat her pastry. Jane continued, his thoughts running away with him.

"You did well today by the way…"

"What do you mean?" Lisbon sounded confused.

He didn't turn to face her, just continued to look out of the window for a few moments. They hadn't spoken about any of the events earlier, and Jane had a suspicion that Lisbon just wanted to forget about the children in the broken home and the familiar father figure she'd try to help.

"Going into the Harper's house. Dealing with everything there and then having to go and see Stiles straight after. I'm guessing you found today pretty tough, and, um…" he wasn't sure how to finish his thought without sounding incredibly patronizing: _"Well done for not breaking down in front of our victim's family" _or_ "I'm proud that you managed to hold onto your sanity today" _or even_ "well done for not freaking out in front of someone who could be Red John and who may or may not want to kill you."_

He still didn't look up at her, fearing that she'd hit him for poking into her private life again. Although, if he was honest, she'd repeatedly told him they were in this together and if poking the hornet's nest that was her feelings allowed them to move forward with the investigation then it was probably worth it in in the end.

There was silence in the kitchen for what seemed like an eternity, and Jane suddenly feared that he'd pushed her too far. But, eventually, quietly, he heard move across the kitchen to stand behind him, much as she had before her run earlier that day. The main difference, however, was that she wrapped her arms around him from behind, enclosing him in a comforting hug, hands pressed against his chest over his heart, and Jane grinned as she rested her chin on his head, just like he wished she'd done that morning. Lisbon held him for a few seconds before she released him and moved to sit in her usual chair, facing him as she sat down.

"I know what you mean Jane. And thank you. It was tough; the Harper's brought back a lot of bad memories, obviously, and knowing that Stiles could be Red John wasn't something that I really wanted to deal with. But, we both got through it, and we've got a bit more to go on now."

Clearly that was going to be end of the discussion on her past, which Jane decided would have to be enough for now. He watched as Lisbon gestured to the files that were still spread across the table.

"So, Stiles. What do you think?"

Jane mulled what he knew of the man over in his brain. Yes he was charming, and certainly intelligent enough to evade capture for any crimes he may have committed; his time running Visualize was evidence enough of that. But could he be Red John? Granted, he was on the suspect list for a reason, but something about Stiles' manner that afternoon was niggling at Jane's thoughts.

"I'm not sure. His alibi for the time of the murder seems pretty airtight, what with the witnesses and photo. And Red John, despite his showmanship, isn't stupid enough to lead us straight to him right after the first body. If that was the case, there would be no need for the countdown."

Lisbon nodded, picking up the photo of Stiles and studying it intently.

"You're right. I mean, it would be almost _too _easy if it was Stiles right?"

"Yeah."

"So, does that mean, with the alibi and everything, that we can put Stiles to the bottom of the list? We won't rule him out completely obviously, that would be stupid without more evidence for or against him, but it does help narrow the suspect list a little right?"

Jane leant over and took the photo of Stiles from her and glanced at the other six suspects laid out in front of them. As far as they had been able to determine, the other men had no solid alibi for the time of Susan Harper's murder, leaving them all still very high on the list. But Stiles?

"I think you're right. Let's put Stiles over here," he shuffled a couple of papers out of the way and placed the photo on its own, away from the other six. "Let's say that this pile is for suspects who, while still requiring investigation, are slightly _less_ likely to be Red John. Sound good?"

Lisbon looked at the remaining suspects, then Stiles' picture then Jane.

"I guess so." She paused, looking thoughtful. "How on earth did you get them down to these seven Jane? Just partially eliminating one is turning out to be a nightmare!"

Jane shrugged and answered her honestly.

"I don't know. I guess I can do a lot when I put my mind to it. It's all about the process of elimination I think."

"Well, we just have to keep working on that basis until we narrow it down to one then," she said, shifting slightly and smiling up at him.

"Sounds good to me," he replied, before rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. "I don't know about you Lisbon, but I'm starving. What do you fancy: Thai or pizza?"

Lisbon stood up to retrieve the menus, pretending to take her time over the decision, despite Jane knowing full well that she was craving pepperoni that evening. As she moved to pick up her cell, Jane turned his attention back to the files in front of him. They had managed to essentially rule out one of their suspects. It just remained to be seen how quickly they eliminated the others. Jane had a feeling that Red John's next victim would, unfortunately, be discovered sooner rather than later…


End file.
